The Fresco (23 page)

This was a new idea to me, and I confess that I was depressed by it, particularly since I was unaware there had ever been any other side or opinion than those we had been taught.

When I reported to the Chapter, other researchers had also found mentions of flosti subsequent to the first letter, and we agreed that the interpolation of flosti had indeed arisen in a casual letter from Merg'alos to a family member, a letter subsequently cited, inaccurately, by one of his lineage. Or, to put it baldly, our teachings regarding the content of the Kasiwees panel were in substantial error. I wondered at the time why the Compendium of Glumshalak had not prevailed over this error since it did not mention the flosti, or whatever.

I think it was at that point that I suggested using technology to penetrate the coating of grime and get an image of the original Fresco. This could be done without changing the Fresco in any way, and then the Chapter might, privately, take its time in assessing what changes in doctrine might be necessary.

I might as well have thrown a pfiggi haunch into a pool of hungry pfluggi, for the assembled Chapter ripped the suggestion to shreds. It was obvious the Chapter preferred preserving the current doctrine to changing doctrine, even though change might bring it into accord with Canthorel's divine purpose. No one,
no one
said exactly that, but that is
what they meant. I did not say it either. I remember that my nootch told me many years before that I would know I had gained wisdom when I learned to keep my mouthparts quiet. I thought of her and was silent.

The head of Chapter set everything into the preferred perspective. “Tradition weighs as much as truth,” the old one said. “What has existed for thousands of years as a support of goodness and peace has as much right to teaching as a painting done yesterday that has yet to prove itself.” In other words, we'd been getting along fine with things the way they were, so leave them the way they were. One of your favorite Earth sayings, that one: If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Though I was presumably acquiescent, I confess to being troubled about this matter. Truth has always mattered to me, dear Benita. You and I have discussed this from time to time. Even though we have agreed that real truth is hard to come by, we have also agreed that it is worth the effort. It seemed to me then, as it seems now, that we could have modified the teachings concerning Kasiwees. He might, for example, have been seeing a vision of Pistach in the guise or manner of flosti. Or a vision of the Pistach leaving the Jaupati in the future, as eventually they did. We could have admitted we did not know what the panel conveyed. The only thing at issue was whether the panel contains symbols of renewal. Does it matter whether it does or not? We believe in renewal! Must we assume our attributes are worthy only insofar as they are ancient? If we cling so tightly to the old that we do not allow ourselves to improve in both beliefs and behavior, of what value are we? Can we not say a newly achieved virtue is more worthy than a corrupted teaching?

The answer of the Chapter was that we could not. Rather than disturb the long-accepted teachings of our people, the Chapter chose to hide the bit of sky that had shown itself, and I, your friend Chiddy, was the one who hid it. For the first time in my life, I felt embarrassed, sick, vicariously humiliated at a decision of our people. I didn't make the decision, but it hurt me nonetheless. It seemed then, as it still does, wrong.

TUESDAY

When Senator Morse received Dink's report early Tuesday morning, he barely managed to maintain his usual glacial reserve.

“So you haven't found her.”

“No, sir, we haven't, but believe me, these other ETs will. Arthur isn't sure about it, but Briess thinks it could make a lot of sense to throw in with this new bunch.”

“Give them hunting rights? Dink, have you thought for even a moment how that would look on the evening news? ‘Senator Approves Extra-Terrestrial Hunting Rights on Human Race!'”

“It wouldn't be publicized! The agreement will be secret. They won't make any noise about it if you don't.”

“And the Pistach envoys? They'll keep quiet about it? I think not.”

“According to this bunch, the Pistach won't be able to prove anything. I get the feeling this bunch is a lot quicker on the uptake than the Pistach are. It's like the difference between cats and cows. Or maybe goats; the Pistach are some smarter than cows. And we could always deploy a little disinformation. Like, we claim the Pistach
are doing it themselves while trying to throw suspicion on someone else.”

“There are paranoids out there who would probably believe it. Unfortunately, most of them don't vote.”

“Senator, take a minute. Think of what they offer. Selective hunting. You got a political enemy: Bammo, he's hamburger. You got some newsman on your tail: Zip, he's cube steak. You get somebody in as president, somebody who's politics-proof, like you-know-who, he meets with an unfortunate accident. That's a good deal. Just think if we'd had this deal in the nineties! It's too good to pass up.”

“Our polls say the public likes this Confederation idea.”

“The predators don't care if we go ahead and join the Confederation. The predation agreement is under the table.”

“And how do we keep the Pistach from finding out?”

“We tell the predators they have to hunt in places where it won't be noticeable. God knows there's plenty of places like that! Hell, every year a few million people starve here and there and nobody even blinks, providing it happens in Asia or Africa. Thirty thousand some odd kids starve every day.”

“That's not something we accept!”

“Oh, hell, Senator. Don't feed me the party line. When was the last time any of your colleagues voted for overseas family planning programs? You guys claim it's to prevent abortion, but you know it's not. You know damn well cutting family planning causes more abortions than it prevents, but you still do it. Why? Because most of the pro-life people are anti-contraception, too. And anti-sex education. And antigay. And anti-women's-rights. But they're pro-gun, pro-hunting, pro-military. Killing's part of their lives. So why not take advantage of what these critters offer?”

“And you think the Pistach won't notice? You think people won't?”

“So, if the Pistach notice we've got deniability. So people notice. We say, hey, sorry, we'll bring it up in the UN, but it's got nothing to do with us. Senator, it's no different from stuff we do all the time, here and there. They won't hunt here in the U.S.”

The Senator growled to himself. “Next time you talk to them, I'm going along.”

“They'll let us know when they're ready. When they've got the woman. Briess has already laid the groundwork for that. He says we have to ask them to do something for us, to prove it won't be one-sided. Like always, one hand washes the other.”

TUESDAY-THURSDAY

The Tuesday afternoon papers said eighty percent of the population had filled out the questionnaires and the American Civil Liberties Union was screaming for blood, as were a number of people who had seen untruthful forms disintegrate under their hands. On Wednesday, Chad Riley called Benita to say in addition to completed forms there were a few dozen bags of mail for the envoys at the D.C. main post office.

Benita looked at the ceiling and said loudly, “You've got mail.”

Chad called back in ten minutes to say the bags were gone, and she said, “Fine, just let me know whenever you want a pickup.” Privately, she thought Chiddy and Vess might have simply vanished the mail, without bothering to read it or scan it or feed it into their machines, whatever.

She had underestimated them. Thursday night, without previous announcement, the envoys appeared on television again. They told jokes about how many Americans it took to fill out a questionnaire (all of them) or how many Afghanis (one, because there was only one right answer for everything). They said they'd heard they'd been given the nick
name of Pistach-ios, because humans thought they were nuts. Benita noticed that their appearance had been further refined. They looked subtly more cuddly than they had before. Their eyes were more glowing and kindly. The squidgy bits around the mouths were less tentacular and more like a mustache. Rather Santa Claus, altogether.

Since some people hadn't filled out their questionnaires, said Chiddy—in an admonitory voice very much like Mary Poppins as portrayed by Julie Andrews—progress in solving problems would have to wait. Thank you, Chiddy said, for all the mail. Yes, they could help the quadriplegic boy brought to their attention by the governor of Arkansas and others of like condition. Yes, they had already provided help for the housing project in California which was being turned into a war zone by local drug dealers. Yes, they could find the murderer of the young women in Seattle, as requested by the police of that city, and of the three black men in Texas, as requested by the Ebenezer Baptist Church. Yes, they were already analyzing the subject of education in the U.S., as suggested by one million two hundred twenty-three thousand six hundred and eighty-four correspondents. Just as soon as the last few people filled out their questionnaires, all these matters would be handled.

“In fact,” said Chiddy, “we'll share with you some of our ideas about improving education, as so many of you have suggested. We have looked at the information on dropouts, and we believe the basic trouble is that no significant rite of passage occurs at high school graduation. It should be a goal, something to be achieved on the way to adulthood, but it isn't. So, we must make it so. Certain things that adults do, like driving cars, should not be available to people who haven't graduated from high school, and social graduation of the unqualified shouldn't count. A diploma doesn't mean anything unless the information is in the head. Adult liberties should not be entrusted to ignoramusses!”

Then Chiddy did something with his face that made him look extremely stern. They would not, he said, be doing anything about drinkers, smokers, drug takers, or those who kept guns their children killed themselves with.

“Evolution must have a way to work among all races,” said Chiddy in a serious voice. “Of any population, some will be born who are not survivors. Some are self-destructive or destructive of others. Others cannot muster the effort to function at a viable level. Some cannot learn. Your society, instead of letting people either perish from stupidity or learn from foolish acts, protects them from themselves and allows them, even helps them, to blame others for the stupidities they have committed. If someone has a broken ladder, sees that it is broken, then climbs it, falls, and breaks a leg, he is allowed to sue the manufacturer without even having to pay the lawyer. If someone is not bright enough to stay in school, he or she drops out and becomes the parent of several children, and you support both the person and the children. I have seen in your papers accounts of drug addicts receiving fertility treatment at public expense. Of poor women being given treatments that result in the birth of multiple children! This is monstrous!

“Persons who are no longer babies should never be saved from themselves! Persons who are self-destructive should be allowed to do so, without hindrance, as otherwise you perpetuate the tendency generation after generation! I have read in a garden book that one saves labor by learning to love weeds. This was written as a jest, but it is true of more enterprises than gardens. Weeds have their own purposes, and so do high death rates among alcoholics, drug addicts, violent persons, gun worshippers, and the perpetually angry. What we Pistach must help you do is to arrange that the fatalities happen inside these groups, rather than among innocent bystanders.

“We have a saying, we Pistach. ‘Aul'a ek glusi ekfeplat num'ha ca ek athici ekfe num'h goff glusi.' Loosely translated, this means that people wanting to kill should kill themselves rather than innocent bystanders. Remember the time of the Red Guard in China and of Pol Pot in Cambodia, when the competent were killed in their millions. This is not to suggest one should punish the incompetent. No, no. Life has already done so, unfairly, as is the way of life and the universe. Let us, therefore, be kind to them. Buy
them a drink or a pack of cigarettes. Wish them a nice day! Meantime, let us work together in devising ways to keep innocent bystanders from injury!”

Chiddy turned to Vess and smiled. Vess nodded, picked up a letter and displayed it.

“We have here a communique from your ACLU, complaining about the completion mark that shows on the hand of those who have filled out the questionnaire. We are unable to find any incursion upon your liberties attendant to this. You all have social security numbers, each one different, and you are asked to contribute to opinion polls all the time. We're taking a virtually one hundred percent poll on American opinion, the first of its kind. And we're being sure we count everyone, one time only, which means it's inclusive and honest.

“Parenthetically, you should know that we offered the results of our count to your census bureau, learning to our confusion that your Congress is not really interested in an accurate count of everyone, particularly minorities. Be that as it may, in our poll we are not interested in what sounds acceptable, or what the majority can be cajoled into supporting. Good government should take into account all points of view. People without the completion mark haven't filled out their questionnaires, so it's easy to tell who's holding up the works.”

The morning papers recorded forcible detention of bare-palmed individuals by friends and neighbors who insisted they fill out the questionnaires so other people could get the help they needed. The papers also recorded a number of pedestrians in major cities were passing out cash, booze and cigarettes to street people they normally avoided.